


By the Sea

by Bullfinch



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: AU where everything is fine and Fenris has a braid, Established Relationship, Lazy Sex, M/M, PWP, Post-Game, Trans Fenris, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:05:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3925660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bullfinch/pseuds/Bullfinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris wants to read. Hawke wants to fuck. They accommodate each other. Quick PWP I did for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set in an AU where it’s several years later, no one’s trying to kill anyone, and Hawke and Fenris live in a nice airy house in some unspecified country by the sea. Don’t expect an explanation for any of this.

Fenris turns the page, his eyes skating to the top corner, sliding down the lines of text with only the slightest hitch here and there. The act of reading has remained for him an exquisite pleasure, even though he’s been doing it ably for years. Something about being able to absorb so much information, to conjure foreign images and emotions from these little scratches of ink is exciting to him, still. This tale in particular is quite thrilling, and he pulls his linen-clad legs closer to his chest, his body tensing as if he were in this scene himself, blade drawn, fighting for his life. The breeze off the sea blows in through the open window and over his naked back, teasing his hair, drawing across his face a few strands that weren’t quite long enough to make it into the braid. He tucks them behind his ear, his eyes never moving from the page.

“Awake at last, I see.” Hawke leans over the cream-colored divan and kisses Fenris on the cheek.

Fenris smiles. “Catch anything interesting?”

“Almost. I had this  _enormous_  trout on the line. I swear to the Maker, it was half as long as I am tall.” He goes around the divan and into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of water.

Fenris raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think the Maker would be pleased to hear you using his name to reinforce such appalling falsehoods.”

“ _Falsehoods?_  You wound me, Fenris.” He claps a hand to his bare chest, over his heart.

Fenris lets his eyes linger for a moment, then gets back to his reading. “If you’d been able to haul it in perhaps you’d have some proof.”

“Well, I  _would_  have, but I was a bit…distracted.”

Fenris knows that look. And knows where this is going. He shrugs one shoulder. “I wasn’t even there. You can’t blame me for your libidinous thoughts.”

“I know, I know.” Hawke comes over and climbs onto the divan behind Fenris, wrapping an arm around his chest, nesting their bodies together. “So…perhaps you’d like to help me indulge those thoughts?”

It’s nice to have Hawke there, his fine body hair pressed against Fenris’s smooth back. But Fenris doesn’t move an inch. “I’m reading.”

Hawke sighs, breath condensing on Fenris’s skin. “Fine. I’ll go get started on those fish then.”

“You will?” He feigns confusion. “I thought you wanted to sate your lust.”

“But you said you’re—reading…”

Fenris can’t help smiling to himself. “I didn’t say that had to stop you.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Hawke laughs, his chest vibrating with the sound. “So that’s how you want to do it.”

“I was under the impression  _you_  wanted to do it.”

“Damn right I do.” His hand slips beneath Fenris’s waistband, sliding over his ass, then finding his vulva. A surprised chuckle. “Seems like  _someone_  was looking forward to this.”

Fenris realizes he’s wet. Well, not much he can do to hide that. “You are also…distracting.”

Hawke presses his forehead into Fenris’s back. “I love touching you.”

And Fenris loves hearing that. He lets out a contented sigh as Hawke strokes his vulva, one fingertip dipping into his entrance just for a second or two to gather fluid—ah. He really is wet. Hawke’s fingers glide over him with ease, cupping him, rubbing him with long, full strokes.

Fenris blinks. He’s not making an inch of progress in the story. He returns to the task before him.  _Lord Mortrens glowered at her, hefting his flail again. “We don’t have to do this, Mireia!”_

The sensation is more comfort than pleasure, a sort of well-being, a sense like everything is right with the world—the sun is bright, the breeze is cool, and Hawke is stroking his cunt. And, of course, he’s reading an excellent book. “ _Yes, Mortrens, we do.” The golden fire of Mireia’s eyes dimmed a little with sorrow. “We’ve both made our choices.”_

Hawke slides over the tip of Fenris’s clit.

Fenris just manages to stop himself from gasping. Sensitive. He’s always sensitive the first time Hawke touches him there. But he calms as Hawke rolls his clit with a slow, gentle rhythm. Like the waves he can hear just outside their window, washing up the beach. He finds he’s squeezing his thighs together, and relaxes them, searching for his place.  _They engaged once more, Mireia again deflecting the great flail. But this time the flail stuck, its chain caught in the shield-spikes. With a tremendous burst of strength, Mireia twisted her shield back, wrenching the flail from Mortrens’s hands._

Hawke’s thumb teases Fenris’s entrance, making little circles but never quite building up enough pressure to push into him. Fenris resists the urge to wriggle his hips and coax that thumb inside. His cheeks are growing warm. Perhaps simply the late morning sun, its rays slanting through their window.

Hawke’s thumb enters him.

“Hm—“ Fenris’s toes curl. He never gets used to how good it feels to be filled, and unconsciously he tightens around the invading digit.

A soft chuckle from behind him. “Liked that, did you?”

Fenris collects himself. “Hawke, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to read.”

And he does, resolute.  _Mortrens fell to his knees, hands lying open on his lap. “What happened, Mireia? We were so close before, yet we never reached for each other. Always took it for granted we would have the chance one day.”_

Hawke’s thumb hooks in him. Oh, damn. Fenris’s back arches briefly, Hawke’s other fingers still massaging his clit, sliding the hood back, pressing deep at the base as if delving at the very core of Fenris’s being—he takes a breath to calm himself, focuses once more.  _Mireia walked forward, her anger vanishing like morning mist before the sun. How could she kill this man? The man who has meant more to her than anything else, any distant emperor’s cause, any weighted purse of gold? “There’s too much separating us, Mortrens. And no way to make it up. No ship to carry us over this vast ocean, no bridge to span this fathomless gap—“_

Fenris finds Hawke’s hand sliding out of his trousers, leaving him feeling somewhat disappointed. The breeze swirls through the room again, cool on his soaked vulva. Then Hawke’s pulling the trousers down over Fenris’s ass, and Fenris grips the book so hard he’s sure his fingernails will gouge the pages. At last. But no, he should be excited about the story, not about—

—Hawke penetrating him.

Fenris shuts his eyes, a smile breaking on his face. Hawke’s arm wraps around Fenris’s chest, his cock making its exquisite advance until their hips meet, thighs pressed up against each other. Something else Fenris never tires of, being filled like this, he and Hawke joined completely. Again he feels his cunt clenching.

Hawke’s thrusts are shallow and slow. It’s nice being fucked this deep, each time Hawke hilts in him sending a warm shiver of pleasure through his core. Fenris lies there and lets himself enjoy it. Hawke, too, seems to have settled into the easy rhythm. His breathing hitches now and then in Fenris’s ear, interspersed with little gasps.

The pleasure pulses low and gentle. Fenris’s hand strays down, to the smooth plane of his lower belly, one fingertip tracing the line between his squeezed-together thighs…but no, he’s content to stay like this, to let Hawke fuck him, to keep the pleasure just where it is. This is a morning for laziness, and he’s happy to leave the intensity for another time. Instead he returns to his reading, taking a moment to find his place. “ _No ship to carry us over this vast ocean, no bridge to span this fathomless gap—“_

_Mortrens gazed up at her as if in supplication. “And yet all these years, all I’ve wanted—“_

_“—was simply to touch you one more time.” Mireia released her sword and shield and took Mortrens’s face in both hands, kissing him deeply._

Fenris blinks. He supposes he should have seen that coming. Hawke’s fucking has grown less tame, and his cock spears into Fenris relentlessly, friction building hot at his entrance. Fenris exhales, keeps reading—  _Buckles and straps fell to their fumbling hands, Mortrens’s armor cast aside, Mireia’s cuirass crashing to the stone floor. She unlaced her shirt and tore it asunder, exposing her heaving breasts—_  damn this filthy book—  _to Mortrens’s hungry mouth. His lips latched onto her, tongue flickering over her eager nipple. She cried out, and Mortrens pulled her closer, his own hardness rising in response to her ardor._

Hawke grunts behind him, arm tightening around Fenris’s chest, driving into him now without mercy. Fenris bites back a noise of pleasure, tries again to distract himself.  _“Take me,” she murmured. “I want to feel you inside me, Mortrens.” Her deft hands unlaced his trousers and curled around his manhood, now engorged, thick and throbbing against her palms._

Something touches Fenris’s throat, then higher, brushes his lips. Hawke’s fingers. Fenris opens his mouth and takes them in.

They taste of salt, from the seawater Hawke washed his hands in earlier, and from Fenris’s own fluids. He sucks them, lips locking to form a tight seal, tongue lapping at them, swirling them in his mouth. Hawke groans at the sensation, his thrusts growing more powerful, less controlled. Fenris continues sucking his fingers, tongue dragging over every inch of skin, as Hawke’s hips slam into him. The book topples from his hands and onto the floor. He can’t put off the arousal any longer, not with Hawke’s body close against him, his cunt being spread over and over, the heat growing so much he can hardly bear it—

 _“Fuck,”_  Hawke growls, and pumps once more into him.

Fenris moans around the fingers in his mouth. He loves it when Hawke comes in him, and shoves his hips against Hawke’s, trying to take him deeper, as if that were possible. Hawke exhales hard against his back, cock pulsing against Fenris’s inner walls, then pulls out, coating Fenris’s thighs with his final jets of seed.

They relax by degrees. Fenris feels the tension go out of Hawke’s muscles, lets the fingers pop out of his mouth. Hawke nuzzles into his back. “Maker.”

Fenris lies there, the breeze caressing his sweaty skin. “Hm,” he grunts.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m annoyed.” He slips a hand down between his legs.

“Annoyed? What for?”

“At myself.” His cunt is soaked now, and he gathers fluid, in all probability mixed with Hawke’s seed. “For not taking advantage while you were still inside me.”

Hawke lets out a startled laugh. “ _You_  were the one who insisted on getting your reading done.”

“I do have regrets in my life, Hawke.” He smears the fluid over his clit, still swollen with unrelieved arousal. The contact makes him shiver, his toes curling.

“Well, since you were kind enough to sate my lusts, let me repay the favor.” Hawke’s arm disappears from Fenris’s chest.

Fenris holds his breath, only to let it out in a guttural sound when Hawke’s fingers pierce his cunt. He’s completely relaxed by now, and his cunt offers no resistance to the invading digits. “Hawke.”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

So Hawke obliges.

Fenris gasps, clutching the edge of the divan. Hawke’s fucking him with short, quick thrusts, and Fenris rolls his clit, flinching every now and then when the shock of sensation is too strong and he has to slow for a moment, readjust to a level of pleasure he can sustain. But he’s feeling impatient and a little reckless. “How many fingers do you have in me?”

“Three.”

Fenris half-grins. “Give me more.”

There’s a moment’s pause. Then Hawke kisses his neck as he slides a fourth finger in.

Fenris lets out a long, low moan.  _Now_  he’s full. “F-f—fuck me—“

Hawke fucks him, his pace undiminished by the addition of another finger. Fenris’s lips part as he rubs his clit furiously, hungry for the climax, eager for it to tear him apart. Hawke kisses his shoulders and back, tongue flickering over his sweaty skin. To be the object of such loving gestures spurs Fenris’s arousal even more. His swollen bud surges with pleasure, and he stutters out, “I’m—I’m going to—“

“Come,” Hawke murmurs into him. “Let me feel you come.” He plunges his fingers once more into Fenris and hooks them hard.

Fenris cries out as the orgasm overtakes him, rippling out from deep in his core and seizing his entire body. His hips buck, slamming back into Hawke, and his legs spasm, jerking in the air. His clit pulses with the climax, and his cunt clenches around Hawke’s fingers, holds them for a few unbearable seconds. Hard kisses press into his shoulders, the back of his neck, with the light scrape of teeth on his skin. Fenris lets out something that might be a whimper as his cunt relaxes, only to squeeze Hawke again, again and again. He shudders as the milking contractions slow and trail off, leaving only intermittent spasms that clutch at Hawke.

He lies still, strength stolen from him. Feels the kisses trailing up his shoulder, the soft murmurs of “I love you.”

Then Hawke starts to withdraw, but Fenris reaches down, grabs his hand. “No,” he mumbles. “Stay.”

A soft chuckle. “As you wish.”

Fenris shuts his eyes, his cunt once more squeezing Hawke’s fingers. Lets himself doze.

“Fenris?”

He shifts. “Hm?”

“…I’m hard again.”


End file.
